Escape II
by Daimeryan Rei
Summary: OZ has captured pilots 01 and 02. Their interrogator is a cruel man, not afraid to use unorthodox methods to get the information he wants.


Title: Escape II  
Pairing: Heero x Duo

Genre: action/adventure  
Warnings: some foul language. Implied torture and violence.  
Summary: OZ has captured pilots 01 and 02. Their interrogator is a cruel man, not afraid to use unorthodox methods to get the information he wants.

Key: - = scene change

* * *

"Wake up, 02. 02, wake up!"

Heero didn't show any concern on his face when the man backhanded Duo across the face. His fellow Gundam pilot cracked open one eye, and mumbled a "Wha?"

"Finally. You're slow, 02."

"Says you, you big bully."

The man snorted. His eyes darted between the two young men, strapped to aluminium chairs. He had made sure that their binds were especially tight and painful; with the slightest movement, the material would sink into their skin, drawing blood. Pilot 01 already tried and paid the price; a steady drip of blood slid over his fingers, casually splattering on the floor. He wasn't disappointed. He would be disappointed if pilot 01 _hadn't_ tried. OZ' files weren't complete on these two; but the scarce information had clearly pointed out that 01 was the toughest one. After all, he hadn't hesitated a moment to self-destruct and survived, against all odds.

"Fuck you." Duo's eyes were unfocused and he was talking because he could, not that he was going to make any sense. He had difficulties orientating and his head lolled back and forth. _Concussion, _Heero thought. His inner turmoil didn't show on his face, he made sure to keep his expression perfectly neutral. He wasn't going to allow their torturer to get any rise out of him.

The man crossed his arms in front of his chest and studied his two prisoners. Licking his lips, he contemplated which strategy he was going to follow. OZ' files hadn't spoken about a particular friendship between the pilots. He could always try it out; maybe if 02 was injured, 01 might be prepared to talk to spare the life of his friend… or not.

"I'll start with an easy question," he said. "What are your names?"

"Baron von Poopenstein," Duo answered. Heero rolled his eyes. Concussion or not, Duo's mind seemed to work properly, especially to antagonize people.

"I take it the truth serum isn't working," the man mussed. He ignored Heero's foul look. He had concocted the serum himself, but apparently it wasn't strong enough. Fortunately, he was well-funded enough to continue his research. Provided he had enough specimens to experiment on… "Do you care to try?" He asked Heero.

"You may call me Odin," Heero answered.

"As in the Norse God?"

"Odin Lowe. It's the name my father gave me." It wasn't the truth, but close enough to it. His adoptive father had been called like that; Heero didn't know if it had been his real name or not. It didn't matter. He didn't know how much his captor knew, and he didn't want to risk being injected with more 'truth serums'. This man was a lunatic.

"And his name?" The man pointed at Duo.

"You heard his name." Heero couldn't help but show a grin.

"Baron and Odin it is, I guess." He took a step aside, revealing a metal cart. Duo squinted his eyes. Heero had seen it already, but he frowned. He didn't know how much experience Duo had with torture. How much could he withstand? The upper tray of the cart showed a neat display of razor sharp knives and scalpels, glistening in the bright tube light. The man hovered over the cart.

"So, what's yours?"

"What?"

"Your name," Duo said. "We gave you ours, it's only polite to tell us yours now."

"You're funny." The man picked up a nasty scalpel, admiring its sharp blade. "You may call me whatever you like."

"Okay, fucker."

"Mouthing off won't help you. You can try to antagonize me, but it won't work on me. I don't care. I get paid to extract answers out of you, and I will get my answers."

"And then you go home and have dinner with your wife, you strong, awesome man-beast you," Duo said. "'Hi dear, how was your day?' 'It was awesome my love, I tortured two young men to death, by the way, can you get these blood stains out of my favourite pair of pants?'"

"I doubt he has a wife," Heero chimed in. "Guys like him go to a lonely apartment to device some more torture methods before they go to bed."

"Who knows, maybe he likes men," Duo continued. "And he wears the apron in bed."

The man was in front of Duo so fast that Heero almost hadn't seen him move, and it took him great willpower to not flinch this time. This guy had hard hands, but Duo didn't scream or yell. He just laughed, his shoulders shaking.

"What happened to your 'It won't work on me?'. Are you some kind of rookie? Most Ozzies don't care if I insult their sexuality. You all know why they love their uniforms so much."

It looked like the man was going to strike him again, but he refrained from doing so. To his satisfaction, Heero noticed the man straining to keep his composure.

"Hey, nothing wrong with liking men though," Duo shrugged, as far as he could move his shoulders, and groaned as the material tying his hands together bit into his skin. "Don't take it so personally."

"I'm starting with you, of course." The man twirled the scalpel around in his fingers and his hand moved to Duo's head, fast like a snake. Heero took in a deep gust of breath, fearing that the man was going to slice Duo's neck open - but the man stepped back, holding something in his hand, dangling from the scalpel. It was Duo's crucifix.

"Huh." The man held the chain up high and studied the piece of jewellery. He failed to notice the dark look on Duo's face and the tight line of his lips. "Do you believe in God?"

"I believe in _a _God."

"Well, as far as you're concerned, I'm your god now."

Duo broke out in laughter, throwing his head back and howling. The man froze up, turning his head towards Duo and Heero didn't imagine the glint of hatred sliding over his face. Duo wasn't like any other prisoner he had ever tortured. This prisoner laughed at him, mocked him and got under his skin. Angry, the man grabbed Duo at the throat and shook him.

"I have the last word on whether you will live or die, 02!"

Duo chortled and puffed up his cheeks. The next second, he spat a wad of blood at the man, hitting him full in the face. He let go with a disgusted grunt. Turning around, he grabbed a piece of cloth and wiped at his face, taking his time to get himself under control.

"I have to admit," he said after minutes of silence, "that you're quite the piece of work, 02. It's going to be a pleasure to slice you open; living, of course. I'll use you to find out exactly how much pain a person can take. How long it'll take for the last drop of blood to be drained. How much pressure it'll take for every bone in your body to be broken."

"Blah blah blah," Duo said. "You sound just like that asshole from last week."

"I still can't believe that you managed to get captured," Heero said.

"Ah well, I had miscalculated the algorithms on that alarm so it wasn't shut off as long as I anticipated," Duo answered, yawning. "Sorry about that."

"It's getting quite annoying, you know."

"What?"

"I always have to break you out of some kind of prison cell!"

"That's not true! Remember back at the Chow Mein base…"

"Chou Min-yong base…"

"Whatever, you were…"

"Shut up, the both of you!" He didn't raise his voice, but both pilots snapped their mouths shut. He tilted his head, looking from one to another. "Your act of a bickering, old married couple might be amusing to others, but not to me."

Heero lifted up his chin, forcing himself to lock eyes with the man. Not showing any fear, he tried to ignore the knots forming in his stomach. OZ had tried to get information out of him before, and Duo wasn't unfamiliar with torture either, but that didn't mean he didn't know any fear. Heero steeled himself.

"Where are your Gundams?" the man asked, his scalpel tickling against Heero's cheek. "Where did you hide them?"

No answer. He moved on to Duo, the scalpel sliding along his braid. When he didn't get any reaction, the man brought up the scalpel to Duo's lips, the feather light touch drawing blood. "Where did you hide them?"

* * *

He'd kill for some water. Heero shifted restlessly in his cell. It was as spacious as a broom closet, no window, and the door was barred with at least three locks. He couldn't even stretch or lie down, it was too cramped. His eyes were already used to the dark and he evened out his breathing. He tried to ignore the pain and the blood caking to his skin; no limbs had been broken, yet, and he hadn't suffered as much as Duo. Duo and his big mouth… why did he always have to gaud people into attacking him? He knew that he, Heero, could withstand much more pain. He was ready to bear it all, if that meant that Duo didn't suffer… he hated the man, he hated every torturer, he hated OZ, he hated the war.

He shut down his counterproductive thoughts. His first priority was to escape, his second was to free Duo. In order to escape, he had to free his hands. That infuriating material that kept his wrists confined, cutting into his skin with every movement - what was it? It couldn't be rope, it wasn't metal or plastic; some kind of polyester or resin, mixed in with plastic? Whoever that man was, he took pride in his work, and there was no telling how far he would go. OZ didn't want the Gundam pilots to die, Heero was sure of it - just as much as he was sure that this man could keep them on the brink of life and death. It usually started with truth serums, a beating, slaps to the face, punches. Some intimidation, various threats. Then the instruments. Then the pain. Heero didn't want to know what came after that.

The man had said that he was being paid for his work. Did OZ really resort to hiring people specializing in torture? Were they so desperate for information on the Gundams that they would stoop as low as to bring in outside people? Fanatics? Lunatics who liked to experiment with pain? Heero shut down that train of thoughts as well. He had to focus on his escape, he would ask questions later. He closed his eyes. Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford, but on the other hand, if he didn't give his body any rest, it would affect him later. It wasn't like he would be able to sleep much anyway; his captors loved to bang on the door, wake him up at intervals and scream at him. Duo wouldn't fare much better, he presumed. He didn't even know where Duo was; they were kept painstakingly apart.

He opened his eyes when he was violently punched in the shoulder.

"Get up, you piece of scum," a nameless soldier barked at him. He shone a flashlight in Heero's eyes, and he squinted. "Get up! He wants to see you."

Heero didn't fight; it was better to save his strength for what was coming. He tried to prepare himself mentally and ignored the jabs and taunts of the soldier who pushed him forward. Stumbling, Heero entered the room where he had just been hours ago. The man was already waiting for him. Without protest, Heero was seated on the aluminium chair again, his wrists tied to it as extra safeguard to immobilise him. He allowed it to happen; there was nothing he could do against it now. This soldier was a little sloppy, his right hand wasn't tied as tight as his left. Heero filed the information away for later use. He turned his head a little, looking over at the empty seat next to him… and noticing the large pool of blood on the floor.

"Looking for your friend?" The man gave a creepy smile. He had perfect white teeth that clashed with the rest of his wrinkled, pasty-white face; Heero wanted to laugh at the man, if it wasn't taking all of his efforts to stay calm.

"So, you finally managed to kill 02?" He asked, wondering how his voice could possibly sound this boring. He wanted to scream.

"Tsk tsk, don't think so lightly of me." The man tapped with his foot. "What have I been telling you? I need all the information I can get. You're both not worth anything to me when dead."

The relief washing over Heero had to be visible, but the man failed to pick it up or was otherwise preoccupied. Instead, Heero sat up as straight as possible, glaring at his captor. The cart was empty. On the upper tray was a row of syringes. The man hovered over it, trying to decide which one to use.

"You're simply marvellous," he spoke. "You're so young, yet you show every sign of a hardened soldier. So tough and strong, so unbreakable. I guess really nothing can convince you to switch to our side, am I right?"

"You are correct."

"I thought so. As I'm sure you're familiar with several torturing methods - beating, yelling, sleep deprivation, starvation, and more of that - I think I'm going to try one of my cocktails to see if I can loosen you up a little more."

"Did it work on 02?" Heero asked stoically.

"You keep underestimating me."

"I don't think so."

The man pursed his lips. He picked up a syringe and held it up against the light, shaking out the last bubbles of air. "This one will do."

Heero didn't flinch when the needle penetrated his skin. He looked up at the man and fell silent. Did it work? He hated foreign substances in his body. He was always afraid of its consequences. He could heal from cuts and bruises, or even a broken arm or a leg, but with self-made concoctions like this, he feared his body might get addicted to it, and then what? It was going to mess with his mind, he didn't have any control over himself anymore, he was feeling loopy and oh gods what was happening to him? He wanted to puke and he opened his mouth. The man looked expectantly at him, curiously, his eyes as big as saucers. Heero gasped for air. Was he tripping? Synthetic drugs? There was nothing in his stomach, he hadn't been fed, he hadn't eaten in days. He was craving water, and maybe the man noticed it, as he suddenly held a pitcher of water. He dumped it all over his face and it was the most wonderful thing Heero had ever encountered. He started to laugh, flicking out his tongue to gather the precious drops of water, slurping and salivating. His body shook, and the tremors were so violent that he fell over, chair and all.

"Too much amobarbital," Heero heard the man say, and it echoed in his head. He was still laughing, and his voice became hoarse, strained, as he doubled over in laughter when he heard a string of curse words. Shaking, kicking with his legs, Heero moved around with the chair, until his body was positioned next to the pool of blood. He was so close to it that his cheek smeared through the blood, and that cut his laughing short. The tremors waned off; his shoulders still shook as his chest heaved from the exertion. He spotted something in the middle of all that blood. All that blood. His lips curled up in a snarl. It was silver. It was a chain with a crucifix. He registered another sound - the man was walking towards him.

"Well, that was quite the learning experience," he said. His boots sloshed through the blood. "We're all calmed down now, yes? Then we can finally start…"

His right boot stepped on the crucifix. The fragile jewellery snapped under the weight of the boot, and Heero went berserk.

"You son of a bitch! You murderer! You're dead! You're dead, motherfucker! You're dead!"

"This is an unforeseen side-effect," the man mumbled. He watched as Heero screamed expletive after expletive and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Now you've done it, now you've done it," Heero raged on. "The God of Death will come for you, motherfucker, and no prayer in the world will save you! He'll have no mercy on your soul! I pity you! You're dead!" And he laughed again with a joyous glee, his voice hoarse from all the screaming.

The man stepped away from him. "Interesting," he said. "Hallucinations… I have to update my notes." His boot dragged through the blood, the silver chain sticking to the sole. He turned around to the cart, picking up a pen and a clipboard with some paper on it. "I'm done for the evening," he said out loud, for the guards at the door to be overheard. "Take him back to his cell. He's not going to reveal anything tonight." Maybe in the morning..? He was going to need some time to refine this particular mixture of… Frowning, he put down his pen and clipboard. He never bothered to memorize the name of the guards. Why hadn't they come in yet to take the prisoner away? "I said, I'm done!"

"I heard you the first time."

His eyes went wide. That was a voice he didn't expect to hear. The prisoner's cackling had died down, and a serene silence enveloped the room. The man turned away from the cart.

"Who's there?"

"You know who I am."

He searched the far corners of the room. The harsh tube light only illuminated the middle of the room, the corners were dark. Could anyone be hiding there? The man moved his right hand, his fingers wrapping around a syringe. Why didn't he bring his scalpels? He knew - he figured he would only have need of a needle. Both these prisoners, both these Gundam pilots, were like nothing he had ever seen before. Not like a human. Not like any human.

"How did you get out of your cell?" Foolishly enough, he had never asked for an alarm button. Why would he? His prisoners had always arrived in an already weakened state, and he was only paid to make them more susceptible for interrogation. He was paid even more to extract information, and sometimes he was even rewarded with the leftovers to experiment on.

"I am the God of Death."

"God of-" No time. No time, was all that flashed through his mind when a dark figure jumped at him, lunged at him, and he screamed like a little girl when his body gave out on him. Pain exploded everywhere, limbs shattering and bones fracturing and his jaws snapped wide open, gasping for breath between waves of pain, excruciating pain. Tears, snot and saliva sprayed through the air and he squeaked as he tried to beg, tried to plea, tried to pray. His vocal cords refused to cooperate and he couldn't fold his fingers, and no mercy, no comfort was given to him when his soul was torn out of his body and he fell on the floor with a loud thud, cast aside like an empty shell.

Heero smiled. He'd seen the God of Death before, and he wasn't afraid in his presence. He would welcome him anywhere, and his body relaxed. He was tired and drained, and he didn't know how long it was going to take before the effects of the injection would wear off. He wanted to sleep.

"Shinigami," he said, nothing but a whisper.

"I am right here."

"Are you coming for me tonight as well?"

"Of course not."

Heero couldn't help but snort. Death would never come for him. The thought wasn't as much as disturbing as it was reassuring.

"Heero."

"Yes?"

"Heero, stay awake, buddy." Duo tapped lightly at his cheek. "We have to get out of here."

"Yeah. Please…"

"Just a moment." Duo leaned into him, his bloodied fingers on Heero's tied wrists. "I swear, that fucker has created some kind of super material. It took me ages to get through it."

"You were just in time."

"Fuck, I was really afraid he was going to chop my braid off." Duo twisted and turned the material, Heero couldn't even care less about his chafed and raw skin. Finally, Duo untied him and his arms dropped lifelessly next to his sides. "Good thing they all assume I'm just a vain little boy, don't you think?"

"I swear, one of these days you're going to hide a chainsaw in it." Heero rolled onto his back and stared into the bright light.

"I don't know how much time we have left. How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm dead. I don't know what he injected me with. I don't care. You know what to do, Duo. Leave me and save yourself."

"Like fuck I won't."

"Like fuck you will."

"Stop it, asshole. I'm not going to leave you here. We need you. The world needs you. _I_ need you."

"No you don't. Now get lost."

"I assume this is the drug or whatever it is in your system that's speaking, otherwise I'm going to kill you myself." Duo grabbed Heero at the shoulders and hoisted him up. "Up, up on your feet, soldier!"

"Mission accepted," Heero said.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Duo supported him and started walking towards the door. Heero didn't even notice the dead guards on the floor and stepped over them as Duo guided him down the hallway.

* * *

"You were right to kill him." Quatre stares at his laptop screen. "OZ is really getting desperate if they hire… animals like him."

"Don't insult the animals." Duo sinks his teeth in another sandwich. "They're sacred compared to him."

"I can't find any information," Quatre complains. "Who was that guy?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't bother to steal his wallet."

"Fair enough. I doubt he'd have any identification on him anyway." Quatre's fingers ran over the keyboard. "I didn't think OZ would employ such low tactics."

"Let it be a warning to the rest," Duo said. "And we need even stricter security on our grids."

"I'll have Rashid look at it immediately." Quatre slid off of his chair. "I'll also inform the others. Meanwhile, how are you holding up?"

"I'm okay, I guess. I'll heal."

"You lost a lot of blood. It's a miracle you made it out there alive, the both of you."

Duo nodded. "I guess we really did come close to… well, dying in there."

"The dark side of war," Quatre said.

"Is there any light side?"

"We are. We are the ones who bring peace."

"I guess."

Quatre simply patted Duo on his shoulder. "You two should take it easy. No missions for a while. The Gundams are stored safely, right?"

"No one can find them."

"Perfect. I'll let you two be."

Duo finished his sandwich before getting up from his chair. He shivered, though it wasn't particularly cold in the safe house; Quatre always turned up the heating to the max. Duo didn't bother adjusting the temperature and padded through the safe house to the first floor, to the large bedroom.

"Hey, sleepy head," he softly whispered. Heero was still under the covers, barely moving. He had been feverish the last 24 hours, his body fighting off the effects of the weird mixture he had been given. He had laughed, cried, punched the walls and attacked Duo before falling into an almost comatose sleep. Without Quatre, Duo hadn't made it through the night himself; not only because he was sick with worries about Heero, but also because he had his own injuries to tend after.

"Hearing you," Heero mumbled from under the covers. Duo flopped onto the bed and made his way over to Heero, tousling his already unruly hair.

"How are you feeling?"

"Blah."

"There's enough food and drink in the house to last us for days, and Quatre forbade us from taking on any missions for a while. We can rest and recover, my love."

Heero rolled on his back, a smile on his face. "I thought you were dead." His eyes went to Duo's neck, noticing the crucifix dangling from its chain. "Did you repair it?"

"Yeah." A sigh. "It really fucking hurt this time."

"It never gets better, Duo. And with the war going on… who knows what OZ will have more in store for us, if they capture us."

"Then we have to make sure we'll never get captured again."

Heero nodded and moved his hand up to cup Duo's face. "You saved my life."

"As you saved me."

"Will you tell me about him someday?"

"About who?"

Heero put his hand on Duo's neck, gently moving him towards him. "Your God."

"Maybe." Violet eyes lock with blue eyes. A little search, a little apprehension - but the both of them let it go at the same time, tilting their heads for a searing kiss.


End file.
